


00Q Jukebox

by roseforthethorns



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: 00Q - Freeform, Anal Sex, Angst, Chapter 7 earns the E rating, Crack, Dealing With Trauma, Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining, Rimming, Unrequited Love, Wedding, chapter specific tags in the notes, eventual smut probably, maybe prompt fill?, music inspired, proposal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-08-08 05:32:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7745188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseforthethorns/pseuds/roseforthethorns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Music inspires many to write, and that's what it's done here. Each chapter will be the title of a song that in some way influences the content of the chapter.</p><p>The story will be a series of short stories and one-shots featuring everyone's favorite Quartermaster/Agent. Some might be AUs, some might be angsty, others will be so high on crack/humor that hopefully you cry from laughing. All of them are inspired by the songs that give each chapter its name.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sexy and I Know It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People are betting whether or not it will happen, but James Bond doesn't back down from a challenge, especially when he can embarrass Mallory in the process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TAGS: Q is exasperated, Bond is a total shit, Eve thinks it's hilarious, fluff, humor, crack, pre slash
> 
> This song is by LMFAO: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wyx6JDQCslE

Q leans against the bar, draining his third shot of whiskey in as many minutes. There’s no way this will work, absolutely no way. James Bond is many things, and he may be able to successfully infiltrate crime rings and take out assassins… but _this_?!

“Worried?”

The boffin glances up to see Eve sidling up to him, stunning in her tight, silver dress. It falls to her knees and sheathes her body in sparkles that reflect all over the room. The neckline plunges past her breasts, and the straps barely seem to be able to secure them. Eve’s makeup is understated but just enhances every inch of her creamy, dark skin and high cheekbones. Even her hair compliments her look, up and back but curling and falling out of its bun. She looks like a goddess among men, and Q can barely hold still in his tuxedo.

“How do you manage to look so effortless all the time?”

“Years of practice and damn good heels.” She lifts her right leg just slightly so Q can admire her four-inch silver stilettos.

“Not very practical, are they?”

“I’ve had them altered,” she murmurs, leaning close as she orders a daiquiri for herself. “They could punch a hole in a man’s throat as long as I land the kick.”

“And you always land your kicks.”

“Every time, Qbie. Now. Why are you sweating?”

“I’m not!”

“I have a bet with Tanner than he won’t go through with it.”

“Then he’s bound to do it. You’re betting against the odds.”

“Oh no. Tanner is the one who thinks it won’t happen. When is he coming out?”

“Soon, I’d imagine. Do you think Mallory suspects?”

“Not. At. All. I’m on video detail.” She holds up her iPhone and turns on the camera right as the lights dim. “Oh this is going to be _priceless_.”

Q swallows nervously and keeps his eyes on the stage. A thrumming, techno beat starts up and the spotlight focuses on the curtain. And James Bond steps out onto the stage. The Quartermaster feels his own trousers tighten significantly as he takes in the sight of 007 not only shirtless but dressed _only_ in a pair of tight trousers that leave nothing to the imagination. Bond begins to sway and grind, making his way to the pole in the center of the stage, that fucking shit-eating grin creeping over his face as he looks down into the front row and makes eye contact with Mallory.

The club erupts with cheers and cat calls as James begins to dance, along with another roar of appreciation for the blond. He smirks at a quickly flushing Mallory while the director of MI6 takes a long sip of his drink. For the record, Q had expressed concern at having James be the stripper for Mallory’s stag do… but now he can’t really remember why.

_Girl, look at that body. Yeah, I work out._

Q almost chokes on his drink at the song choice while Eve whoops excitedly. Bond is actually really damn good, grinding sensually against the pole before doing a few amateur twirls. It’s when he turns back to Mallory and begins leading his steps with his groin that Q drops his head in his hands.

“No, no you have to watch. Q, look!”

_I’m sexy and I know it._

He does, in time to see the trousers come off. James Bond is dancing to “Sexy and I Know It” in front of half of MI6 and he’s only wearing a bloody thong. 007 is practically ready to devour those he can see as he continues to grind and thrust… then he turns around to strut back up to the pole and yes, yes it is a thong because there’s just this tiny strip of fabric peeking up from between his cheeks, arse cheeks as tan as the rest of him. Bastard must sunbathe naked.

The song ends to tumultuous applause and cheers. James bows and winks at Mallory, waving to the room once and, for a moment, Q feels the man’s gaze meet his own before he scoops up his trousers (what a fucking _view_ ) and disappears behind the curtain.

“Well, I just won five hundred quid,” Eve says happily, sending the video off to Tanner. “He really should know better than to goad Bond into anything involving nudity.”

“I still can’t believe you’re officiating their wedding.”

“I know, isn’t it wild? Just about the only way Tanner could convince Mallory to take a vacation.”

“I’m sure we’ll keep the world from falling apart for ten days.”

“Mmmmm. Now, how about something a little more substantial than shots, Q?”

“That depends. Has he eaten anything?”

The Quartermaster nearly falls over in his haste to spin around. James has come up silently behind them again. Bloody ninja. He’s back in the tight trousers but still nothing else. The chiseled, scarred chest serves to scatter Q’s thoughts almost as effectively as the dance. “I-I did eat today, Bond, thank you for asking.”

“Enjoy the show?” James teases, glancing pointedly at Q’s crotch before ordering drinks for the three of them.

“You would have to be dead to not enjoy that show,” Q mutters, accepting the drink but not tasting it. How can Bond be so suave, so cavalier about all of this? How does he not understand what those looks and that smile do to Q on a regular basis? Oh, that’s right. Because Q keeps it all firmly under wraps.

“I do dance for private parties,” the agent murmurs in Q’s ear, and the boffin turns the color of Eve’s daiquiri. He splutters, trying to cover his embarrassment with a sip of his…

“Bond. You ordered me a screaming orgasm?” He raises an eyebrow at the man; Bond has the audacity to look completely unapologetic.

“Call it a promise. For later.”

With that, he nods to Eve and struts off to change back into his suit, giving Q a view of his leather-clad arse. The Quartermaster will be his if he has anything to say about it. And when he glances back at Q though the curtains that lead to the changing rooms, James swears he can see the man smile.


	2. Hold Me Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q's rise through the ranks and the beginning of his tenure as Quartermaster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: Q's story, Skyfall, minor angst, flirting, implied alcoholism
> 
> Requested by Narukashi666.
> 
> The song is by Halsey: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xKnG2d9tZdU

The trouble with being a tech genius is that he always has to spend the first few years at any job working on server maintenance and consolidation. Q had hoped MI6 would be different, and despite his entrance “exam”, if hacking into the servers and back out without detection could be considered a challenge, he’s not even allowed to work in R and D. He’s stuck in the basement with the other lower level minions. So instead he creates programs to run the maintenance for him while he piggybacks on the missions and spies on the spies. It’s mostly for practice, but it lets him glimpse the outside every so often.

Old Boothroyd has no idea. The man is starting to fade in his old age, but he’s still a genius. It’s during an interview with the man that Q is able to make his first impression.

“So, you’re a hacker.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m afraid I’ve never been much one for technology. Always preferred the more old-fashioned methods of designing and building. But M insisted I take a look at your skills. How long have you been with us now?”

“Three months, sir. Working on server maintenance mostly.”

Boothroyd’s eyes sparkle then. “I have it on good authority you’ve been listening in on some of the double-oh missions, is that correct?”

Q’s too shocked to say anything at first. “How… sir, how did you know?”

“The minions talk, Holt. Everything gets back to me one way or another. I may be ‘eccentric’ in my age but I’m still all here.” He taps his temple and smiles at the thoroughly abashed hacker. “Don’t look so frightened. I want to start moving you up through our department. Show me how well you handle increased responsibility and apply your specific brand of ingenuity to the problems at hand. I love this job, but soon the world is going to pass me by. I need someone in the pipeline I can trust, that I can entrust with the future of Q-branch. And I rather like you… M told me your hacker name. Fancy yourself the Quartermaster on day?”

“You aren’t firing me?”

“Consider yourself promoted. And you report directly to me. And Holt,” Boothroyd adds as he stands and heads for the door, “if you ever hear something on a double-oh mission that could save lives, report it immediately. Start developing those instincts.” He walks out of the conference room, leaving a very confused and grateful hacker behind.

***

It takes a year for Q to move his way up to be Boothroyd’s right hand man. He spends at least a month in each department to learn how it works inside and out. He keeps his head down as best he can, but the other techs in Q-branch barely speak to him. They glare at him over computer screens and around blueprints, mimic the way he runs his hand through his hair when nervous, the way he will completely forget about his tea for hours on end, only thinking it’s been a few moments.

Q tries to be cordial with the others, but his attempts at small talk fall on dear or unreceptive ears. After a few months he stops trying. Instead he throws himself into his work and learning everything he can. They don’t have to like him. They just have to tolerate him. Still… returning at night to his empty, one-bedroom flat with a bag of takeaway… he needs a pet. Maybe a cat.

He finds viruses on his laptop one week, so the next he’s developed firewalls that only he can bypass. Another all the keys on his keyboard are missing. He starts locking his materials away at the end of the day. Six months in, all of his earl grey tea goes missing when he’s in the loo, and his favorite mug is broken in the bin by his desk. Q stares at the chunks of porcelain and swallows his rage. Things won’t always be this way.

***

He’s listening in the day 007 is shot and declared dead. He’s never met the man, only heard the stories. It’s one of the favorite conversation topics in Q-branch. Everyone watches the double-ohs from afar, but James Bond is the one everyone comes back to. Handsome, devilish, addict, crack shot, dangerous, charming, a bloody good shag.

Q sits back at his desk and sighs as the coms go silent. Two seconds later, he leaves his station to find Boothroyd. The man is hunched over his desk, staring at the screen in front of him.

“Sir?”

The head of Q-branch looks at his protégé with a wan smile. “007 was a good agent. It was a shame things ended that way… but there’s nothing for it now. Come on, lad. Looks like I’ll need to promote you again. Can’t see everything like I used to.”

“With all due respect, sir, they never trained you to be a handler.”

“I know, my boy. I know.”

And then only three months after he starts as Boothroyd’s second, MI6 blows up.

***

Suddenly, the whole of Six is in chaos and Q finds himself permanently promoted. To the head of Q-branch. For three days he doesn’t get to change out of his suit or even sleep as they move everything to their new base of operations below the city. It does rather solve the problem of departmental relations. One tech manages to drop a box of Q’s equipment, and from the smirk ono his face it was completely deliberate. So Q goes dead silent before not only suspending the tech for two weeks without pay, but he demotes him to server room duty until he “has learned his lesson.” The other minions give him a wide berth after that, scurrying around like rats in a maze while Q barks orders.

He misses Boothroyd and wants to mourn, but there’s too much to do for him to be able to take that time.

It’s M herself who comes by to knock on the door to Q-branch at the end of the move. Q’s exhausted and very rumpled, held together by tea at this point. “How are you settling in?”

Q straightens up and faces her. “It’ll do for now. I have to run several security sweeps before I’ll be sure.”

“Make sure you get some rest. You look like hell. Oh, and we’ve had a change of line up.”

“Ma’am?”

“007 has returned. Apparently he wasn’t dead. You’ll need to reactivate his security clearances. And once we’ve properly debriefed him and he’s back up to snuff, he’ll need kit.”

“Bond is back?”

“Mmmm. Thought it would be funny to play dead.” She turns, then glances back at Q. “I’m sorry it happened this way, but Boothroyd only had the highest praise for you. Do him proud.”

Q nods, watching M leave before sinking into his chair before his legs give out completely. He’s handler and tech chief and the leader of Q-branch, working with a bunch of people who can’t stand him and soon to face one of the most famous agents in the double-oh program.

He needs a drink.

***

Bond’s eyes are the first thing he notices. Then the little smirk of amusement that tugs the corner of his mouth just so. The way his eyes crinkle when he smiles.

His perfectly tailored suits, especially the navy one that brings out the sharpness of his eyes. His short, dark blond hair (not enough to really hold onto, not like Q’s mop of dark curls). The way he looks holding his _gun_.

The way he trusts Q to steer him right. Doesn’t judge the man for Silva’s hack. The way he lets Q approach him after M’s death to offer condolences and a bottle of Scotch. James is on the roof, staring out at nighttime London when Q finds him. The boffin is wrapped up in a coat and gloves and scarf while James is in a tight fitting jumper and denims with black trainers. Q walks to the railing and leans against it before offering the alcohol.

“While I don’t approve of your coping mechanisms, I have to admit this was the only gift I could think of. You’d just break anything else I gave you.”

Bond smirks and opens the bottle, taking a swig and then offering it to Q. He accepts, the liquid burning down his throat to heat his stomach.

“You’ve good taste, Q,” James murmurs softly. “And it was her favorite.”

“I saw it in her office. It was unopened.”

“Probably just as well. I doubt Mallory would drink it.”

“No, he seems more of a brandy man.”

“Why are you here, Q?”

“Because you shouldn’t be alone right now. And because I wanted to apologize. I let Silva in-”

“You can’t blame yourself. You’re very clever, but he’d been planning longer.”

“She’s gone. She died in your arms. I’ve read your file and I know how many people you’ve lost in this job.”

“Too many.”

“I don’t think anyone blames you for this. You’re only human.”

For a moment, Q thinks James might take the bottle and throw it off the balcony. The man is trembling with grief and rage, and he seems to be fighting the urge to let those feelings out.

“Bond-”

“James. Call me James. I’d rather hear that from your lips anyway.” Q flushes, glad of night’s cover to preserve his modesty. “You aren’t going to try and get me back inside?”

“What’s the point? You don’t follow orders well,” the younger man teases, pushing his glasses up higher on his face while trying not to shiver.

“You’re cold. Come on.” Bond wraps an arm around Q and brings him back down inside the building. “We can go back to mine. Finish off the scotch.”

“James. What do you need?”

In the dim hallway lights, he can see the flicker of uncertainty that crosses Bond’s face before that cool, suave mask descends once more. “I was rather hoping you were offering. You’re just my type.”

“Oh really. I thought you always went for the married ones.”

“Too much drama. And too many angry husbands.” Bond is smiling now as he slowly backs Q up against the wall. “Come on, Q. What do you say?”

“What happens if I say yes?”

“You get to have me. And everyone will be terribly jealous.”

Q snorts, staring up at Bond and realizing just how close they are. “I suppose it depends on how well you kiss.”

“Better than anyone you’ve ever had.”

“Prove it.”

As their mouths meet and James pins him to the wall, Q wonders if this is how it feels to make a deal with the devil in exchange for something he wants.


	3. Falling Slowly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q's had a thing for James Bond for a long time, longer than he's actually known the man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TAGS: Post Skyfall, alcoholism, trying to help James
> 
> The song is by Glen Hansard: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FkFB8f8bzbY
> 
> I know it's another Skyfall one... but it came to me today. I have way too many emotions about that film. Too many feels.

Q comes away from his first meeting with the infamous James Bond with only one thought in his mind: I don’t know you… but I want you.

In the three months since Bond had been declared dead by MI6, Q had done nothing but ask people to share their stories of the secret agent with him. “Research” he called it, though some of the more seasoned agents had seen through to what it really was.

Many are more than willing to share their tales. Bond in the field- reckless and wild but always thorough in the end. Bond in bed- devastating and demanding but always pleasurable in the end. Bond at MI6- a completely insufferable pain. And over the course of those months, Q finds more and more that he wishes the man were alive so he could meet him. Talk to him. Probably flirt with him, undoubtedly argue with him. When Boothoyd dies in the explosion that takes a chunk of MI6 with it and Q gets the man’s old job, he adds “dress Bond down for losing or breaking equipment” to the list of things he wishes he could do with the man.

Imagine his surprise when it turns out Bond is actually alive.

Nothing could have prepared Q for that first meeting. It’s only by some miracle that he emerges with his heart beating intact. It certainly skips several beats when Bond smiles at him. His focus has to be on the underground lab and finding the person responsible for destroying HQ, but his mind strays to Bond. He’s consumed by his thoughts to the point that he insists to M that Eve be the one to travel to Shanghai. He doesn’t trust himself alone in a room with Bond yet. Not yet.

He does all he can to help. He tries to decrypt Silva’s computer (though that backfires spectacularly and Q isn’t sure he’ll ever forgive himself for it). He lays the false trail for the mad Spaniard to follow. And he flies up to Scotland with the retrieval team after the final showdown.

Q stands in the old stone church, leaning against the wall as the paramedics pull M’s lifeless body from Bond’s arms, and he sees the agent try to hide the way he reaches for her. In three strides Q crosses the room and kneels in front of Bond. “Can you hear me, 007?” he says quietly, subtly checking the agent’s pulse (much slower than he would have expected) and his temperature. “You’re in shock and in danger for hypothermia. You need clean, dry clothes, and you need to stand. Can you move?”

James is surprisingly pliant, letting Q guide him over and receive the briefest of checkups. Q carries the dry clothes in his arms as he leads James to an empty room in the building. “Change into these, please. Then we can take you back to London.”

“She’s gone… isn’t she, Q?”

“Yes, 007. I’m sorry.”

Bond emerges five minutes later and doesn’t speak again until they land in London. “Come with me, Q.”

The Quartermaster follows James through the city without question to the man’s hotel room; Bond hasn’t managed to secure a new flat yet. He orders a large bottle of Scotch from the concierge and retrieves two glasses from the mini bar in the room. Q keeps pace with him for the first three glasses before he starts getting tipsy; he knows Bond could drink him under the table without even trying, so he doesn’t try to keep up after that.

“Why did you come?”

“T’Scotland?” His words are slurring slightly but Q doesn’t care. “You haven’heard? ‘M kind of your fan.”

“Little bird might’ve mentioned it. Why?”

“B’cause you’re interesting. Very interesting. ‘N I wanna know you better… but not when I can’ even talk proper.”

Bond chuckles and refills their glasses. “Didn’t know you cared.”

“You’ve suffered enough on your own,” Q mumbles, the whole thing sounding like one word. “Don’ wanna play games. Wanna know you.”

“Take an aspirin, Q. We can talk when you’re sober…” Then, softer, “You deserve far better than me.”

“Oh that’s piss ‘n you know it.” Q slumps against the wall, mumbling under his breath. James has to help him take the pills and drink water before laying Q on the hotel bed. Only when the Quartermaster’s breathing evens out and James isn’t worried the man will choke in his sleep does he return to the Scotch, leaning against the window and staring out at the city. The last person in his life that, in his own twisted way, he’d seen as a parent, is dead. He’s more of an orphan now than he’s ever been. And yet… here is Q, voluntarily drunk in his bed. The man hadn’t even batted an eye when James had wanted to use alcohol as a coping mechanism.

“I don’t know you yet Q… but maybe… bloody hell, you have a choice. Why would you choose me?”

He knows the answer even if he doesn’t want to admit it. But he keeps it between him and the bottle of Scotch that he drinks in M’s memory as the sun rises over London and Q sleeps.

“I don’t know you… but I want you all the more for that, Q.”


	4. Someone to Watch Over Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James asks Q to dance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TAGS: Complete fluff. Everywhere. 
> 
> This chapter is for timetospy. The song is their idea and I find it to be perfect.
> 
> This version is by the timeless Ella Fitzgerald: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vnhQ09ZG-M0

"May I have this dance, Q?"

The Quartermaster turns around to find none other than James Bond holding out a hand. 007 looks stunning in his black velvet tux. He's clean shaven and smirking, though it's a smile more in his eyes than on his very kissable lips.

"You may." He takes James's hand, letting the agent lead him onto the dance floor. "You really want to dance with your Quartermaster? In public? At an MI6 function?"

"No. I want to dance with my boyfriend. In public. And make everyone extremely jealous."

Q's cheeks tinge pink as they begin to dance, and he's smiling a little to himself. The number is slow, almost mournful and hopeful at the same time. "Wait... I know this song."

James smiles at him and leans in to whisper in Q's ear. "I should hope so."

The boffin glances over at the singer with the band as she begins."

" _There's a saying old, says that love is blind..._ "

"James...?"

"What? I didn't do anything, I swear."

Q narrows his eyes but keeps on dancing; it takes him nearly five seconds to realize that his partner is humming softly... And Q never would have believed it if he hadn't seen and heard it with his own eyes and ears, but James begins to sing.

" _So I'm going to seek a certain lad I've had in mind._ "

Bonds voice is a tad rough around the edges, but the man can carry a tune. Q shivers a little as the lower notes seem to growl and resonate in his ribs. Bond keeps him close as they move in tandem, and the song plays on, James still singing to Q. Their eyes never leave each other.

" _I'm a little lamb who's lost in the wood, I know I could, always be good to one who'll watch over me._ "

Q snorts and grins. "A little lamb?"

"Shhhh. Just go with the sentiment. Since to _my heart you carry the key._ "

Maybe it hits him then. Maybe this is just he moment when he finally realizes what James is doing and what the song means.

" _Someone to watch over me._ "

Q's eyes widen as James pulls them to a stop and kneels.

"Q..." He pulls a small black box from his coat pocket. "Will you marry me?"

The ring is just a simple silver band at first glance, but when Q looks closer he can see little etchings in the metal that look like circuitry. He nods, holding out his hand as he whispers "yes", and the ring fits like a charm.

"You... You just proposed. In front of everyone at Six," Q murmurs as James stands again and pulls him close to kiss him.

"I did. I felt it appropriate. Grand gestures and all."

"But... Married? Are you sure?"

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Q. I'm not letting that slip through my fingers. And... If it means it's time to retire... Then it's time."

"I'm not worth all that. This is what you love."

"It's not the only thing I love," James purrs before sealing their mouths together in a deep, passionate, loving kiss.

"On the bright side... I think this means Eve wins the pool."


	5. In Your Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A 00Q wedding in Q branch and the moments that led to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TAGS: first meeting, minor angst, SO MUCH FLUFF
> 
> The song is by Peter Gabriel- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B3kFPBtc9BE
> 
> JuJuBee requested this one, and I had some help brainstorming in the 00Q chat this week. Thanks guys for all your help!!!

They use Q’s desk as their altar.

It’s fitting, really. Where else are James Bond and Q going to get married other than in Q branch, surrounded by their close friends. A real Six wedding, at least that’s what Moneypenny calls it. Tanner’s the best man, Eve’s the maid of honor, Mallory’s officiating. The guests are a few underlings and double-oh agents who happen to be in the country for the day. No muss and no fuss.

James and Q face each other as they stand before Mallory. Both of them are in perfectly tailored suits, a simple black they had decided. James’s eyes are pure, vibrant blue, not icy, but like the Mediterranean ocean on a summer day. Q’s green eyes meet the piercing blue gaze, and as Mallory begins the ceremony, he starts to think. How many little things brought them here? How many chance happenings?

 

 _I get so lost sometimes_ …

 

James watched Q’s retreating back before leaving the gallery himself, and despite his focus on the coming mission, he wondered about the young man who had just turned his world upside down. He’d matched James’s banter without blinking, and that infuriating little smirk that lit up green eyes behind rather sexy glasses… Bond shakes his head. He needs to focus on the mission at hand. Catching Patrice will go a long way to repairing the damage done to him, but perhaps if he survives he can work to unravel the enigma that is his new Quartermaster.

 

_And the grand façade so soon will burn…_

 

He was everything Q had expected and then some. Handsome, yes. Broken, definitely. Sharp, certainly sharp enough to cut someone with his jaw. Even as Q returned home that evening to his boyfriend, said hello and went to bed with him, perhaps his mind lingered on icy blue eyes for just a moment before he fell asleep. He was curious, intrigued, but Bond was off limits. Q was quite happy with the man sharing his bed, and Bond was a double-oh. Short life span and tended to live in a Scotch bottle. Not a healthy choice.

 

_The light, the heat in your eyes…_

 

“For the last time, no I will not make you an exploding pen.”

“Is that because I already have one and don’t know it yet?”

“What is it with you and blowing things up?”

“Quick, efficient, flashy. It leaves a certain signature behind. Besides, it’s hardly my fault if the bad guys prefer C4 to everything else.”

“You already don’t bring back my equipment. What makes you think I would trust you with truly expendable equipment?”

“Because I’m your favorite agent?”

Q snorted and shook his head. “Go away, Bond.”

James left long enough to make Q a cup of tea (he was still working on the right milk and sugar ratio, though Q always seemed to drink it even if he made a face), returning to set the mug down on Q’s desk before leaving again. Whenever he was back at Six, he would, in Q’s opinion, skulk around Q branch. Q’s convinced it was because Bond wanted to drive him spare.

“He likes you. He’s doing this because he likes you.”

“That’s definitely not why, Moneypenny.”

“He did the same thing when there was a double-oh intern that he liked. He found out how she took her tea, what she liked to eat. He brings you food, doesn’t he?”

“So what if he does? I’m not available. And he’s not a good choice.”

“There’s worse people you could be with than James Bond.”

Two months later, Q knew she was right.

 

_Without a noise, without my pride, I reach out from the inside._

 

“Q? What’s wrong?”

“Bond? I was trying t’text Moneypenny.”

“Are you all right?”

“Why’d y’ask me that?”

“Because you sound drunk.”

“Soooooo what if I am?”

“Where are you? I’ll come by.”

“….”

“Q? Are you…”

“Fine.”

“Bullshit.”

“No, I mean fine. Come over.”

 

_I don’t like to see so much pain, so much wasted and this moment keeps slipping away._

 

James arrived with Chinese takeaway and a bottle of Scotch to find Q curled up on the floor with a half-empty bottle of vodka. He’s at the boffin’s side in an instant, checking him over. “What happened?”

“My… my ex-boyfriend… he’s my ex now, after that…” Q’s eyes were clearly bloodshot and his glasses broken on the floor. “He broke my glasses. Stomped on them. Said I work too much… thinks I’m IT… can’t tell him I’m Quartermaster c’n I?” He took a long pull from the bottle and sniffed. “Said I didn’ pay enough attention t’him. That I pushed him into another’s bed… all my fault he cheated… that ‘m not good enough for him either…”

“He sounds like a right prick,” James growled, scanning the flat for pictures.

“No. Don’ hurt him. Not worth it.”

“He made you cry. He hurt you. I’ll gut him.”

“James. Don’t.”

Bond looked at the younger man and slowly pulled Q into a hug right there on the floor. “Then let’s eat and get pissed, eh?”

 

_I am complete in your eyes._

 

James watched Q sleeping for most of that night. The younger man had finally passed out, but not before James had managed to slip him a few aspirin to lessen the hangover come morning. He held Q and very gently petted his hair. “He doesn’t deserve you, the cunt who broke your heart. He can’t see your worth. I see it, Q. And I’ll do what I can to make you see. But he’d better hope he never meets me. Because I’ll do a lot worse than kill him.”

 

_But whichever way I go, I come back to the place you are._

 

“007! REPORT!”

Nothing. Static. Radio silence. No tracker. No life signs. No snarky comments.

“He’s gone… 007 is down.”

He’d thought it would just be like any other death, but Q was wrong. He had never been more wrong in his life. The explosion had taken out several blocks in Aleppo, and there isn’t even scrap of fabric or a bone fragment left. Where Bond had been standing is just a blackened smudge.

Q needed to fill out the paperwork and file the death of an agent with Mallory. He needed to start the process of putting Bond’s belongings into storage, clean out his locker.

No more tea.

No more surprise meals.

No more cocky smiles.

No more James.

***

_Three days later_

“We found something in his will, Quartermaster. He’s left you everything.”

Q’s head snapped up in shock as he stared at MI6’s executor. “What?”

“Bond’s will. He left you everything he possessed. There’s a sizable sum of money, all his belongings, his Aston Martin. It’s all yours.”

“When did he do this?”

“The last update was made a few days after his return from the Skyfall mission. You had no idea?”

“No… we weren’t together.”

“You don’t need to collect yet. M thought you would want to know.”

Q returned home in a daze, trying to wrap his head around it. James had left him everything. Why? Was it some sick prank? His way of lingering long after he was gone? Q had never even thanked him for coming over that night and getting drunk with him. He’d never gotten to tell him…

He stops short, noticing that the door to his flat is open a crack. Pulling a handgun from his pocket, Q stepped into his place to find none other than James Bond sitting in his favorite arm chair and nursing a bottle of Scotch.

“You need better alcohol. I had to go and buy this.”

“Where. The. Hell. Have. You. Been.”

“I had to go off the grid. The explosion nearly got me, and I took advantage of it to finish the job.”

“Your vitals went out. We couldn’t find a trace.”

“As I said. Off the grid. And I destroyed my trackers so of course my vitals went out.”

“I thought you were dead. Your obituary is set to go out tomorrow. Your _will_ was read today. Why the fuck did you leave me everything?”

“I didn’t want it to go back into storage. I wanted you taken care of if I died.” James looked up at Q, and the boffin saw just how battered and broken the man appeared. “As soon as the job was done I came here. Figured I was safer here than anywhere else.”

“Why? Why my flat? Why me?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“No!”

“Surely Moneypenny told you.”

“She’s nosy. And it’s none of her business. Damn it James, I thought I had lost you!”

Bond stood slowly, unfolding from the chair like a lion about to stalk its prey. “And yet you say you don’t care.”

“I don’t.”

“So you haven’t been shut down and moping since I died? You haven’t been a shell of the Quartermaster that I’ve… that I’ve bloody fallen for?”

“It took you dying for me to realize your death wasn’t just another lost soul. Is that what you want to hear?”

“Damn it, Q, I want you to be emotional. I want you to yell or throw things. I want you to tell me how you feel!”

“I THINK I FUCKING LOVE YOU HOW’S THAT FOR EMOTIONAL?!”

Q kicked his door closed and threw a crystal vase at Bond’s head but it went wide. “I love you. I think I have since that damn meeting in the National Gallery. But you’re 007, you’re a bad choice, we’ll both just wind up hurt. Or you’ll die and it will be my fault. This can’t work. It doesn’t work. It won’t work.”

James walked forward, crowding Q’s space and leaning in close. “You aren’t letting us give it a try.”

Fuck, he was warm and solid and real and Q just snapped. He grabbed James and kissed him, hard. Bond set the scotch down and kissed back before slamming Q against the wall and pressing his knee between the younger man’s legs. They both groaned as Bond sucked on Q’s tongue, pulled the younger man’s hair before Q suddenly pushed back and turned them around. Now he was the one pressing James to the wall and _fuck_ if James wasn’t really aroused by that sight.

“Bed. Now.”

 

_Oh I want to be that complete. I want to touch the light…_

 

_2 years later_

 

“James?”

“Go back to sleep, love.”

“But you’re not in bed.”

“I will be soon enough.”

“You’re baking at six in the morning.”

“It’s for Moneypenny. Her birthday.”

“Is it? I should call…”

“I did already. For both of us. Please, pet, I’ll be there soon.”

“Don’t stay away too long.”

“See if Betamax will curl up with you.”

“I swear that’s the last time you get to name the cat.”

***

“So you’ve spent the day either fucking me senseless or cooking. What have you done this time?”

“I can’t come up with a way to pamper you on our anniversary?”

Q blushed a little and kissed James’s ear. “I suppose you can. But you’ve been very quiet and intense all day.”

“I’ve been focused on you. Was it good?”

“The food was amazing.”

“I have dessert as well.” James fetched the cake he’d baked earlier and brought it to the table, setting it down. Q stared at it, eyes wide as he read, in very bad icing writing:

_Will you marry me?_

He looked back up at James to find him eye level. He was on one knee, holding up a simple silver band. “Well?”

Q’s smile could have powered the world.

 

_The resolution of all the fruitless searches in your eyes…_

 

They finish their vows and exchange rings, simple silver bands that Q designed especially for them; they double as tasers. He smiles as he stares into James’s eyes and Mallory says the final words.

“I now pronounce you married. You may kiss.”

James sweeps Q into a dip and kisses him soundly in front of everyone gathered in Q branch, and Q can feel the start of their life together as, smiling, he kisses back.


	6. So Close

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When James drives off into the sunset with Madeline, he doesn't realize who he's leaving behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TAGS: Post Spectre. I’m so sorry. Angst warning.
> 
> The Song is by Jon McGlaughlin- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q2WHo5bGRNw
> 
> For JigglyJelloWithCoconut- Pining or unrequited love, take your pick!

_“Bond? What are you doing here?”_

_“Good morning, Q.”_

_“I thought you’d gone.”_

_“I have. There’s just one thing I need.”_

***

Watching James’s retreating back is the hardest thing Q ever does. And after that smile, the one he has dared to think of as _fond_ … but James had only come to get the car, and Q is left behind, like always, while James drives off into the bloody sunset with another girl.

For a brief moment, he considers just packing up and leaving the remnants of his bustling Q-branch, but there’s a part of him too loyal to his work to leave now. Screw C and Spectre and Nine Eyes. Q’s an inventor and a hacker and he’s brilliant, damn it. Even if the man he wants doesn’t see it.

He was a fool to hope this would end differently. It didn’t matter in the end that Madeline had left Bond; James still rescued her all the same. At the end of the day, she was the one sharing his meals and his bed, and never in his life has Q ever wanted something so domestic so badly. He didn’t think he’d read the signals from Bond wrong until that moment.

_“There’s just one thing I need.”_

The radio station Q’s listening to starts playing what almost feels like a slow waltz, soft at first and the music surrounds him as he steps away from his work station and paces. It’s everything he’s feeling in that moment, speaking to how abandoned and cast aside he feels. If this were a romantic comedy, if he, Q, were the main character, this would be the moment Bond would come back to him and kiss him passionately in the middle of the empty Q-branch.

_So close to reaching that famous happy end…_

Emotion threatens to choke Q as he really hears the lyrics, and his legs crumple beneath him, dropping him to the unforgiving cement. He’d never realized… all those smiles and looks… he’s memorized them all, catalogued them in his mind. James’s happy smile, his condescending smirk, his suggestive twitching lip, his disappointed glare, his shut down and glassy gaze, all of them are stored in Q’s mind and he takes them out to look at them now. His heart flips as he remembers the amused, flirtatious smile from the National Gallery. That seems like a lifetime ago now.

He should have said something. He should have swallowed his pride and asked Bond out to bloody tea or for after work drinks, but it’s _James Bond_. The man with a license to kill and a liver made from a Scotch Bottle. The man with a body count just from touching or smiling at you. One glance and Q had been lost to James but hadn’t realized quite what that meant. All too late he knows now.

Q wraps his arms around his aching chest as sobs wrack his body, the kind that can only come from a broken heart. He had been close. He’d dared to think he’d been close enough to the possibility of romance, a happy ending for the duration of their lives. For several, long minutes Q fights his body for emotional control, and when he wrests it away from his throbbing heart, he shuts everything down. Pretend he’s one of his computers, just shut down his emotions and wall them away. The man who slowly stands a moment later is very different from the broken Quartermaster that had just been on the floor.

Maybe James will never know the true reason why, but if the light is gone from Q’s eyes now, he’s not telling.


	7. Your Body is a Wonderland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking up in Q's bed is something James Bond loves. Especially when it's a day that he can spend just exploring his lover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TAGS: Body worship, smut, anal sex, rimming, some fluffies too
> 
> The Song is by John Mayer- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N5EnGwXV_Pg

James’s favorite part of sharing Q’s bed is getting to have the Quartermaster all to himself. And really, who wouldn’t want this delightful man? Q doesn’t seem to think too highly of himself with little telltale blushes and deflecting James’s compliments. Today, Bond is determined to kiss every mole and freckle from Q’s head to his toes, starting with that tantalizing one on Q’s neck.

It’s how Q wakes, with James’s mouth on his skin. Bond’s lips are deliciously soft as they caress him, and he has to blink a few times to make sure this isn’t still just some dream. “What’re you doing, James?”

“Exploring. You don’t mind, do you?”

Q’s blush spreads across his chest too, and James chuckles as he explores the little moles on Q’s cheeks, the freckles peppered over his nose, and stealing a deep, lazy kiss from his mouth.

“Candy lips and bubblegum tongue,” James purrs when he pulls back to press their foreheads together.

The younger man grins and leans up for another kiss. “Such poetry from James Bond. I have to admit, that’s a surprise.”

“Can’t take credit for it. Just borrowing the line for a while. Why? Is it working?” James noses his way back down to Q’s chest to focus on his nipples this time, tongue and teeth and lips working together to pull them into little, rosy peaks. “I could get so addicted to you, Q.”

“I… it’s Danny. My name. No one knows it but you. M did, but she took it to her grave.”

James’s eyes freeze for just a second before they soften and he crawls back up to kiss Q deeply again. “It rather suits you,” he murmurs as they share breath.

Bond’s attention is focused solely on Q and he spends the better part of an hour really exploring the man’s body. The few times they’ve fallen into bed so far have been fast and desperate affirmations of life followed by explosive orgasms and then twelve hour rounds of sleep. Now, with a rare lazy day, he wants to discover who Q is.

Q’s chest and arms are first, and James spends nearly ten minutes just licking, kissing, sucking Q’s fingers, right hand then left. “Clever fingers. They could bring down regimes I bet.”

“Or put unruly double-oh agents in their place.”

“Is that so?” He’s smiling, God, he’s really grinning now. Q’s quirked eyebrow and sleep-tousled hair make him smile. So James returns to his exploration, one that deliberately avoids Q’s cock and moves to the V of his hip bones. He nips and licks and leaves identical love bites in the flesh on either side, holding Q in place like it’s nothing. Then it’s down Q’s right leg to his feet (feet that are _ticklish_ ) he notes before moving up to Q’s inner thigh. Another set of matching love bites adorn Q’s skin by the time he’s done, and he loves the way Q moans and squirms and practically whimpers with need and pleasure as James sucks the marks into his porcelain flesh. Q’s left foot is every bit as ticklish as his right, so James begins the slow crawl back up Q’s body; even though he doesn’t touch Q’s cock, he does stare for a moment at how hard it is just from these explorations. But he isn’t done yet.

Kissing the smile from Q’s lips, he drags his mouth to the boffin’s ear. “Roll over.”

His lover obeys, and James sits back on his heels to admire the wonderful, unmarked expanse of Q’s shoulders… wait… not unmarked.

“Q. You have tattoos.”

“Yes, I do. Problem?”

“Oh no. No problem. Just a delightful surprise.” Q’s back, instead of being just bare and smooth skin, is a masterpiece of circuitry and binary and little pictures, all exquisitely tattooed into his flesh. James begins to trace them with his tongue, following the lines of what he imagines to be circuit boards and connecting wire feeds. He mouths at the One Ring near Q’s ribs on the right, a single rose down towards his lower back, traces little whorls of Latin with his tongue and callused fingers, all while Q lays beneath him.

As he moves his mouth down to Q’s frankly perfect arse, he can’t resist biting each of the cheeks and making the younger man yelp in surprise. James merely pins Q again and spreads his cheeks to gaze at his still loosened hole from the previous night’s activities. “You could take me again right now with almost no prep, couldn’t you?” He purrs, leaning in to lick a slow, dirty stripe up and over Q’s hole.

James feels his lover gasp and squirm now, trying to grind against the sheets for any type of friction. “You like that, do you?” he growls before doing it again, thrusting his tongue into Q this time and licking him open. His fingers hold Q’s arse cheeks apart while James works, the filthy teasing enough to get him hard too; besides, Q makes the most delightful noises when James drives him half wild with desire.

“I swear to God if you don’t fuck me _now_ , James Bond, I will give you no equipment. Ever again. You’ll get cat food for your kit.”

Bond chuckles then, pulling away and rising from the bed. “Oh Q,” he purrs, gently tugging the boffin’s hair. “I will. I will absolutely fuck you. In a minute.” He walks away, hearing Q groan in frustration, but James won’t be deterred. A quick teeth brushing and rinse and he’s back in the bed. He straddles Q’s hips and kisses him deep, sucking on his tongue as he grinds their cocks together. “I love the way you feel against me, Danny,” he murmurs, and there’s something deeply intimate about knowing Q’s real name. “And sex with you is positively life changing.”

James smiles down at Q and kisses him again as the boffin thrusts the bottle of lube into James’s hand. He slicks his cock up and then spreads Q’s legs so he can watch the moment of penetration. “We need a mirror above your bed so you can see me fucking you,” he comments. It’s almost an offhand statement in its delivery, but he hears the needy squeak Q can’t quite hold back. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Getting to watch my cock disappear into your wonderful tight heat?” James groans in pleasure as he sinks into Q until his balls are flush with his lover’s arse.

“Move. Move please. God damn it _James-_ ”

“You,” Bond purrs as he leans forward to kiss Q into silence, “are a bossy little boffin.” He rolls his hips slowly so they can feel the drag of skin against skin. James loves how Q welcomes him in every time, the little clenches around him, how Q’s breath hitches when the head of James’s cock drags over his prostate.

It’s lazy sex, this, probably the closes James Bond ever comes to making love. Q is in his arms, they’re trading kisses and breaths as they grind and move and rock together. Everything about it is slow and unhurried until Q can no longer stand it.

“James… James I want it harder.”

“Patience, pet.”

“But-”

“I said patience.”

“Bossy.”

“You sure you want to call names when it’s my cock in your arse?”

“You know full well I could turn the tables and fuck you absolutely raw.”

“MMmmmm, that you could. But not right now.” He lightly tugs Q’s hair, making the man melt against him again. “I’m not quite ready to end this yet.”

“At least touch me.”

James strokes his fingers down Q’s chest to thumb at his nipples. “Like this?”

Q stares at him, unimpressed, and James snorts. “Clearly not. Ah, I bet it’s your leaking cock that you want my hand to caress, isn’t it?”

Q nods and Bond’s eyes darken. “Well then.” His hand slowly sneaks between them to fondle Q’s balls one at a time before dancing up the shaft of Q’s long cock. The younger man moans loudly as he arches off the bed and into the touch.

“So responsive. Fuck, Q, I could get used to this.”

James is starting to grow impatient, wanting to make Q come undone. So he starts to speed up his thrusts, adjusting his angle just so in order to hit Q’s prostate with maximum force. Soon Q’s screams of pleasure echo through the room and James is stroking him and kissing his neck and sucking marks into his collarbone until he kisses up to Q’s ear and gives the order. “Come. Now.?”

Q does, arching and clenching as he coats James’s hand and his own chest with his cum. James pistons his hips a few more times into Q’s arse before he follows over the edge with a shout and several almost unintelligible swear words.

Neither one of them is sure how long they lay there, but when they both are aware again, they’re kissing lazily in a sweaty, sticky pile. “Another set of sheets for the bin, I think,” Q says, resigned.

“At least it was for a good cause.”

“The ‘Get James Bond Laid Fund’?”

Bond’s eyes twinkle as he kisses Q again. “The ‘Fucking my Lover Boneless’ cause.”

“Mmmmm I like that one. So, shower?”

“Absolutely, Danny.”


	8. Not While I'm Around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes James doesn't know how to cope. Q's there to pull him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you timetospy. Without you, this chapter doesn't exist. 
> 
> This song is from Sweeny Todd: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yNL20003W9M

James has many different kinds of silences. There's the kind when he's relieved to be home and is memorizing Q in his arms again; Q loves hearing him breathe as they both come down from twin orgasms. There's the kind when he's listening to someone speak, lip curling as he debates the perfect snarky remark. There's the silence when he just stares at Q or into his eyes, the silence that speaks to the volume of his love even though he hasn't said those words yet.

There's the silence when he's lost someone on a mission. The silence when he's lost in painful memories from his past.

The silences when he's in danger of being lost altogether to his pain. The frightening silences.

James used to get blind drunk to deal with them, so completely hammered to the point where he blacked out. He doesn't do that anymore, and Q isn't sure he's completely aware of it. All Q knows is that he's able to help.

The first warning sign is in James's eyes. They stare past or through Q instead of seeing him. The distance is sometimes glassy, other times barely masking deep pain. When he can, Q clears their schedules and leads James to the sofa. He pulls off their shirts, curls up in James's lap, and flips on the telly. It doesn't matter what's on; the noise is just for background sounds. Q will wrap them up in the deep blue afghan he knitted for their flat and just hug James. His skin soon warms to James's body temperature, and he makes sure he doesn't leave James sight.

If one of them needs the loo, Q makes sure they go together. When he needs a cuppa, he guides James to the kitchen table and returns to his arms as the water boils. He orders takeaway instead of bothering with cooking, and he feeds James when he's willing to eat. Q isn't entirely sure James even tastes the food, but it's better than him drinking.

Once it's dark and getting late, Q leads James to bed, stripping them both before tucking James in and climbing under the covers. He drapes himself across James's torso and starts to talk.

“I'm completely stuck on the design for the new double-oh issue watches. They need to do more than explode, but 006 blew the reserve of my budget when he practically destroyed Georgia…”

“I've been thinking about converting part of the den into a massive cat tree for Alan and Stephen. Perhaps it would distract from your wool suits…”

“I've been practicing frying eggs. I almost didn't burn one yesterday…”

"I worry about my sister sometimes. I haven't visited her or my nieces and nephews in months, but work has me so busy…”

Q natters on about his life or about anything that comes into his head. If the silence gets too oppressive, James might rouse long enough to find the scotch. And if, if by the time he's chatting in bed, naked, curled up against the man he knows in his heart he loves, James hasn't come back to himself, then Q begins to sing.

“ _Nothing’s gonna harm you, not while I'm around._  
_Nothing's gonna harm you, no sir, not while I'm around._  
 _Demons are prowling everywhere nowadays._  
 _I'll send them howling, I don't care. I've got ways._ ”

The song has always brought him a deep sense of comfort, and in his soft tenor, he knows it can reach into James's distance and start to lead him back.

“ _No one's gonna hurt you, no one’s gonna dare._  
_Others can desert you, not to worry, whistle I'll be there._  
 _Demons will charm you with a smile, for awhile, but in time_  
 _Nothing can harm you, not while I'm around._ ”

James's grip on him changes, and Q finds himself drawn up and into a firmer embrace. James buries his face in Q’s neck and breathes slowly. Q can feel how tightly James is holding him, and he doesn't mind if he's bruised the next day. He wraps his arms around James's shoulders and keeps singing.

“ _Being close and being clever ain't like being true.  
I won't need to, I would never hide a thing from you… like some._ ”

If he hadn't been listening so closely, he would've missed the soft catch of James's breath. Suddenly, Bond is holding him so tightly Q thinks he can hear his bones creak. James is back. So Q finishes his song.

“ _No one's gonna hurt you, no one’s gonna dare._  
_Others can desert you, not to worry, whistle I'll be there._  
 _Demons will charm you with a smile, for awhile, but in time_  
 _Nothing can harm you, not while I'm around._ ”

James's grip softens enough that they can both lay down properly and Q can still be curled up in his arms. James blinks a few times, and he's no longer staring through Q. He meets Q’s gaze, blue eyes locked with green. Q smiles and gently kisses James's mouth and strokes his fingers through James's short blond hair.

“Not while I'm around,” Q whispers.


	9. And So It Goes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James has never felt he deserved more from life, not with everything he's done. So to him, Q is truly an enigma.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And So It Goes by Billy Joel: https://youtu.be/wcUCYtyaLrY

To this day, James still isn’t sure what Q sees in him. Q couldn’t have been clearer when they first met that James was the old warship in the painting. That comparison still irks him because he knows it’s true. He isn’t as young as he used to be. He has more scars now, both physical and mental. He spends most of his time silent or working, and the time he’s neither, well, that’s when he’s either drunk or with Q.

He hadn’t meant to wind up in some kind of relationship. Not after Vesper. James had spent years putting his shattered armor back together to protect his heart. He can’t bear that kind of pain again. It would kill him. But then there is  _ Q _ and he can’t figure out why he’s so drawn to the man. Q’s knowing little smile just…  _ does _ things to him. Q makes him feel like a teenager, makes him feel both younger and more his age than anyone before. He’s taken to sleeping over at Q’s flat more frequently. He wants to come back from his missions again, come back to Q.

But still he’s scared, that treacherous emotion he wishes he could quash. Because fear means he cares and hadn’t he already learned that lesson before? When he’s feeling particularly self destructive, James will get completely drunk and take out those memories of his time with Vesper. He’ll look at them and feel a dull ache of longing for the normal life he’d tasted for a brief moment. It’s getting harder to remember her face after all this time, but that only makes him cling to the memories. Denial in spite of pain is his greatest skill, denying he misses Vesper, denying he likes Q, denying that he truly does want more out of life. But he doesn’t deserve it. Not after all he’s done. But then there’s  _ Q _ . Q who can see past his walls, and that bloody terrifies him.

They’re in bed, James laying on his back with his eyes closed and Q next to him on his stomach. “Is this just sex?” Q asks.

James doesn’t open his eyes, but his heart is beating faster because what can he say? How does he say that he wants more but is afraid? But if he stays silent and Q leaves, can he live with himself? “Perhaps… it could be… more.” He hears Q’s small intake of breath. Surprise? That’s to be expected. “I know I’m not… talkative. But I don’t…” He struggles against the welling panic inside him. “I don’t want to lose you to my silence. If you want.” He won’t force this. He won’t keep Q where he doesn’t want to stay.

James feels Q’s hand on his cheek and risks opening his eyes. Q’s still beside him, staring at him inscrutably for a moment. Then he smiles and kisses James gently. “I’ll be very careful,” he murmurs before curling up against James and falling asleep. James waits until he’s sure Q’s asleep before slowly gathering him in his arms. He holds Q close and presses a kiss to his hair.

_ I’ll be very careful. _

That’s what always brings him back. Q knows what he means even when he struggles to say it. He’s given Q his heart, what’s left of it. After everything he’s done and seen, Q’s the one who knows what it does to him. He’ll stay. He’ll stay as long as he can.

Q nuzzles him in his sleep, and something inside James snaps. A wave of protectiveness sweeps through him and he holds Q tighter as his eyes burn and his throat tightens. He doesn’t deserve such open trust, but God help him, he will do everything he can to keep it. “I won’t lose you,” he whispers to Q, and then the tears come. He’d failed to protect Vesper, and that failure haunts him still. “I choose you. I choose this.”

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews and Comments welcome!!!!
> 
> I have LOADS of song ideas but not many stories fleshed out. If you have a song and a prompt idea that fits 00Q, feel free to leave it in a comment. I can't guarantee I'll get to them all, but I would LOVE input.
> 
> You guys are the best!
> 
> As of 7/17/17: I apologize for the long hiatus. This past year has been sheer hell, and my depression flared up again. I'm working on getting back into the writing game, so look for more chapters here and in the Jukebox collection.


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